


Just Know When That Glass Is Empty, That the World Is Gonna Bend

by the_genderman



Series: Relationship: Undefined [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Erectile Dysfunction, Kylo Ren is a Mess, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, One Night Stands, Past Kylo/Hux, Pining, Poor Life Choices, Star Wars Modern AU, inebriation, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Kylo’s tried to show Hux he could change, tried to move on, tried drinking to forget, tried hooking up like he used to, but he still can’t stop thinking about Hux.
Series: Relationship: Undefined [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092638
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Just Know When That Glass Is Empty, That the World Is Gonna Bend

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so as the fic opens, it’s pretty clear Kylo was _not_ sober as he drove himself home. His commute back home occurred “off screen” and nothing happened to anyone, but in case untagged insinuated drunk driving is an issue, this is a warning. I’m having it fall under the umbrella tag “Poor life choices” because it’s not actively occurring, and maybe someone would be like “I can’t read it actively happening, but if it occurred but no one got hurt, I can read that.”
> 
> Fic title is a somewhat forced continuation of a theme. It is lines from what I _thought_ was the next Lady Gaga song on The Fame Monster, “So Happy I Could Die,” (the song after “Dance in the Dark” is actually “Telephone,” but I listen on shuffle and iTunes has a thing where if there’s multiple artists on a track, it puts them out of order) and let me tell you, most of the song does not fit this theme. I like it, but *shrug*.

Cursing loudly as he dropped his keys for a second time, Kylo planted one hand on the door to brace himself and stooped to pick them up from the tiny landing at the top of the stairs. At least he hadn’t dropped them all the way back _down_ the stairs—he wasn’t sober enough or patient enough for that. If he had, the first of his friends-slash-employees to clock in the next morning would have probably found him slumped against his door, passed out asleep on the landing. Because of course he’d gone out drinking alone on a Thursday night, still trying to get over Hux. What else was he going to do? It was now three months since Hux had taken his key back and Kylo still hadn’t found a decent place to stay. His shop’s crash pad was a place to stay, but it hardly counted as _decent_ after Hux’s apartment. There wasn’t enough room to take up much of a hobby, and there wasn’t a lot else he could do to his bike anymore. All the guys were still friends with both of them, which currently made hanging out as a group after work a bit awkward. He’d either have to figure out who was hanging out with who, or if they were _almost_ all together, deal with the uncomfortable cloud hanging over them caused by Hux’s declination of the group invitation. And to top things off, Hux had changed his Netflix password, so Kylo couldn’t even keep up with his shows. 

Kylo had stopped trying to call Hux about a month ago—after his own friends had turned on him and told him to leave Hux alone, give him space and maybe he’ll reach out when he’s ready—and had started trying to move on. They’d never been separated this long since they’d first gotten together. _Three months_. He snort-laughed as he finally managed to slot the key home and unlock his apartment door. He stumbled inside, swiping at the light switch, missing it, and cursing the continuing dark. Three months and he’d only managed to get laid _twice_. At first, it had been deliberate—trying to abstain to prove to Hux that he _could_. Not that Hux would know that, seeing how he never answered his phone. By the time Kylo had decided to try to move on, he’d simply fallen out of practice. God, what a dry spell. He almost got lucky tonight, but he hadn’t thought to take the alcohol into account. He’d ended up in the men’s room with some college twink who didn’t bear a certain resemblance to a certain ex, no sir. They were both drunk, both willing, but only one of them seemingly able. After some argument, they had settled for a quick, unreciprocated, blow job in a too-cramped stall, after which Kylo had paid his tab and pointed his bike towards home, the taste of cheap beer, dick, and failure lingering on his tongue.

Cursing again, Kylo clenched his hand into a fist and pounded his hand against the wall. Why did these things happen to him? It wasn’t his fault!

_Was it?_

No. Hux had just been unreasonable. They’d been broken up, it didn’t count. Bar twink, whatever the hell his name had been, should have at least _tried_ to get him off. Maybe, Kylo thought, he _could_ stand to try a bit harder too, but so could everyone else. It wasn’t _all_ his fault. 

Kylo groaned, thumped the wall again for good measure, and made his way to his bedroom. He blinked against the light as he managed to find the switch this time, and began stripping down mechanically. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet, and a shower would probably do him some good. He’d be hungover in the morning, but at least he wouldn’t smell like dive bar and have slept in jeans.

Slotting himself into the tiny shower, Kylo ducked his head under the showerhead and cursed roundly as the water sputtered coldly to life. Theoretically, he knew it always took a moment to warm up, but did he ever learn? Seemingly not. He jumped back, bumping into the shower caddy stuck to the back wall and knocking its contents to the floor. This certainly was turning out to be one hell of a night, Kylo thought to himself, digging deep into his vocabulary of curses—the ones his dad had sworn up and down to his mom that he hadn’t picked up from him (it was true, he’d picked up most of them from _her_ when she had thought he wasn’t listening)—and contorting himself to reach down and pick up the soap and bottles before he stepped on one of them in the confined space.

 _Oh_.

Kylo pushed his wet hair out of his face and turned the bottle over in his hand, wondering how he could have missed it before. Three months. It had been here this whole time and he hadn’t _noticed_. Hux’s shampoo. It was relatively cheap, nothing fancy—all it had to do was get his hair clean and then he’d gel it into place—not like the stuff he bought for himself, but it was special because it was Hux’s. And he still missed him. Maybe he had simply taken the bottle for granted like he had Hux. He hadn’t noticed the shampoo because it was supposed to be there, and it would have been weird if it _wasn’t_. Fuck. He wanted Hux back so much.

Maybe it had been long enough, maybe he could call again and Hux wouldn’t immediately reject him. Maybe his texts wouldn’t be left unanswered. Maybe Kylo could try again, win him back. They’d fallen into their relationship originally on accident. Hux had brought a vintage Aston Martin in for repairs and refurbishment, saying that his friend had recommended the place, and him specifically. Kylo hadn’t been sure if he’d been more enamored of the car or its owner originally, but one thing led to another, and they’d found themselves tangled up in Kylo’s bed one morning. That technique wouldn’t work this time around, and the traditional dinner, flowers, and wine might not work either—Hux would be suspicious—but he’d figure something out. If nothing else, he could apologize like he meant it, apologize the way Hux wanted to hear it, and beg him to take him back. To try again. He missed him, he truly did. Because every single one of his flings had just been meaningless sex, something to tide him over until they got back together. Because, as Hux often argued, he had poor impulse control and tended to think with his dick first, head second. Because every time, the moment Hux called, he was right there at his doorstep and ready to try again. They were meant for each other. All the good times, all the bad times, every time they fought, every time they made up. They were meant for each other. They made it work because they were better together. When they cooperated, there was nothing they couldn’t do.

Popping the cap open on Hux’s shampoo, Kylo squeezed some out into his cupped hand. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled, thinking about how it smelled, how Hux smelled, how much he liked it after he had taken his before-bed shower to wash the gel out of his hair. He liked to pull him in close, hold tight to him, and bury his nose in his hair, soft and loose and clean. Hux had always tried to wriggle free, complaining that his hair was too unruly when every strand wasn’t micromanaged into place, but Kylo had just let him complain himself out until they were ready to fall into bed together. If Hux _really_ hadn’t liked it, he would have made it painfully clear. Hux enjoyed complaining and Kylo let him know he could bend his ear any day. 

_God_ , he missed Hux.

Enveloped by steam, Kylo let the warmth of the shower further relax and loosen him. Surrounded by his thoughts, he curled his fingers in and dropped his hand. Some of the shampoo oozed out from between his fingers as he grabbed his cock. Bracing his free hand against the shower wall, Kylo slicked himself up with Hux’s shampoo, squeezing, teasing, tugging, trying to get his cock to respond like it had failed to earlier in the evening. Hoping that the scent would trick his brain into thinking he wasn’t alone in his tiny shower in his tiny apartment, jerking off to a memory.

But no, barely even a twitch. Didn’t feel _bad_ , but it certainly wasn’t what he had hoped for. Kylo continued undeterred, his contrariness bleeding through. He grunted and clawed his fingers against the hard tile as he stroked his still-soft cock. He might not be able to get hard, but he’d wring an orgasm out of himself even if it meant wasting the entire bottle of Hux’s forgotten shampoo. He’d come even if it meant staying in the shower until the water ran cold. Kylo squeezed his eyes shut and imagined that he was back in the big shower in Hux’s apartment. That he’d decided to join his lover, surprise him. That he’d caught him halfway through lathering his hair, the smell of his shampoo permeating the humid air, his hands slick. Hux would turn, startled at first, then his face would change, morphing into a smirk, and he’d tilt his head, welcoming him in. Kylo would wrap his hands around Hux’s waist, feeling the steel under the softness. Hux would slip a soapy hand between them to grasp their cocks, stroking both of them at once.

Kylo panted. Hair dripping, limbs trembling. The slick sounds of his fingers on his cock blending with the spray of the shower, water pelting against his body and the tiles and the glass door. His head reeled, eyes still clenched shut. Pretending that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t a mess without Hux. Could he live without him? Sure; he’d done it before, he could do it again, but he didn’t _want_ to. He was better when they were together.

A gasp escaped Kylo’s lips. He shuddered. Come mixed with the lather of shampoo in his hand. He uncurled his fingers stiffly and raised his hand to the spray of the showerhead, blinking his eyes open to watch the mess sluice off. _Tomorrow_. He’d call Hux again tomorrow, text him, hell, write him a _letter_ if that was what it would take. Figure out what kind of apology he’d need to get him back, and he’d do it. He’d do whatever he had to to get him back.


End file.
